Chosen
by demiheart
Summary: When the three Prince brothers of Panem come of age, a national reaping occurs to determine potential marital prospects. To be 'chosen' out of those reaped is considered an honour -for you're whisked away to the Royal Palace, your family never to be hungry again... but being forced to marry a man she's never met, doesn't quite put Katniss Everdeen at ease. Even if he is a Prince.
1. Chapter 1: Purple

**Chapter One: Purple**

**Katniss POV**

I lace my fingers through Prim's as we rush to beat the afternoon gusty winds. It's not yet winter, only a few weeks off, but this year, the snow and chilling winds that'll freeze you inside out decided to come early. Today is the worst day so far.

We scuttle through town's square, weaving in and out of the Peacekeeper's who are working there to take down the banners. Purple is everywhere – the colour of royalty.

For just a mere few days ago history was made here, and in any other district that can broadcast the live stream from the Royal Palace. All three princes of Panem are now of age to marry. Not that I attended the reaping. What was the point? Thirty names out of a bowl of thousands and thousands. My chances were obviously slim, not to mention the fact that each prince chooses one of the ten assigned to them. As if they'd ever pick a seam girl from District 12.

Prim stops walking outside one of the shops and peers inside the windows. I used to object to these pointless side tracks, but Prim always seems to really enjoy them, even though she knows we'd never buy anything. This year has been especially tough, and the looming winter only worries me more. I tug on her hand lightly and say, "Come on, Prim. We mustn't be caught out in a storm."

"Can't we stay?" she whines, "This is the last time we'll ever see the square looking so _pretty_!"

As much as I prefer to stick to my leather boots and dirty pants, I do have to admit the purple had grown on me these last few weeks. It was such a build up for the whole thing. Advertisements, flyers, songs, interviews with royal members and potential wedding planners were all on a constant loop. It's called being '_chosen_', and it's a pretty big deal. Prim loved it of course, the idea of a Prince whisking away a girl to be married. But for all we know, these Princes of Panem could be idiots, or worse: cruel.

"Take one last look, Prim." I sigh, motioning to the large signs behind us. "I'm tired, and want to go home to get warm by the fire."

I know she was upset about _just_ missing the age bracket. Fifteen to eighteen year olds were deemed suitable matches for the general mean age of the three Princes. We share a bed, and when they delivered the news at school she played it off as if she didn't mind, but I was woken in the night by the mattress softly rocking beneath me. She was sobbing, and it took a whole hour to calm her down.

Part of it for Prim, was probably the idea of a Prince, yes, but underneath all that I know why she truly wanted to be a _chosen_ girl. Because if you're chosen, not only do you live in the Capitol, but your entire immediate family becomes under the protection of the government and its royal diplomats. In other words: no more freezing nights without supper.

I eventually tug her hand away from the window shops and head for the nearest exit. We've been standing around for too long. The peacekeepers have nearly finished removing all the banners. We pick up our pace and I shield her from the worse winds. She protests at first, but squeals the minute she exposes her hands or mouth to try and talk to me. By the time I spot our house at the end of the street, I can't feel my fingers and toes. My nose aches from ice burn.

"Mom!" Prim calls out.

"We're home." I say loudly, but not quite with as much enthusiasm.

Prim takes off her coat, hangs it on her lower hook, then disappears into the main room of our house to start the fire. We don't trust mother to do it alone. She's back with us, actually present and talking, but some things are best left for the more capable minds. I keep my beanie on, and bang both of our boots on the outside porch. I realize, looking up to the grey sky, that we're lucky we left when we did. It's starting to snow –only faintly- but with these winds it could easily turn into a snow storm.

Mother startles me from behind, "Did you have a nice walk home?"

"No, it was pretty horrible." I reply, bringing the boots in. I shut the door quickly. "Square was nice though, offered some wind protection. Prim wanted to stay longer though, you know, cause of all the lights and shops and… purple."

"Ah, well, all that's over now." she says swiftly, then helps me to take of my coat. I know she doesn't want to linger on something that Prim got her hopes up on. We could wear them inside, but then they'd never dry out and we'd have to wash them more often.

That night, we only eat berries mixed with stale crackers I'd managed to buy cheaply off a boy from school. Most people know how little we can afford, but there's only so much help you can give in District 12. So once again, I feel guilty, because my family and I all go to sleep with near-empty stomachs and without the promise of food tomorrow. In winter, it's much harder to hunt or set up snares. I haven't felt my bow in my hands for weeks now. Usually, I'd have built up a stockpile to freeze and make it last –but this winter just came over us so fast, I didn't have the time.

But I do manage to find food the next day, because apparently a train from the capitol is in our station. Some kids from school raided one of the carriages, and decided to give us the things they didn't want. Prim and I share a peach on the way home, a fruit we've never had before, and decide how to cook the three potatoes, two carrots, two tomatoes and herbs for tonight.

From behind, the train makes a loud tooting noise. We bot spin around, a bit frightened at such a thing, then laugh at each other's reaction. I haven't allowed myself to consider until now as to why the train would be here. There's no loop connecting the districts, so if a train stops here it's for a reason in District 12. I shake my head to myself, my braid slipping out form my beanie; it's probably just here to pick up the leftover supplies and banners from the _chosen_ reaping. Yes, of course.

We carry the food in our jackets, and run as fast as we can home to set up the pot on the fire. I can't remember the last time we've ever used cooking utensils. It's a feast for us, and as much as I want to make the meal last, fruit and vegetables go off quickly. Mother tells us to bake the potatoes instead of boiling them, and they all turn out pretty good. We sit cross-legged on the ground, talking to one another, and eating the first warm thing we've had in weeks. We actually feel like a family for a moment, and it's strange. I stand at first, but then mother insists she'll do the clearing up.

The storm begins to calm down outside, and it becomes incredibly quiet. I don't mind this, we're at least fairly warm inside. And while she moves to the kitchen, and Prim shuffles up next to me by the fire, I know that her belly is full, and I can't stop thinking how grateful I am for the train to be in the station.

But I've spoken too soon.

District Twelve is very small, and news travels fast. So when a rather tall and dashing tanned man comes from the train station to our house in the Seam, so out of place for someone like him, we hear it before he's even arrived at the door. Not just because of his heavy footsteps in the snow, but because of all the gasps and whispers from outside our windows –the general hush that overcomes our small street, as if everyone's taken in a sharp breath, terrified to let it go. I see him in passing through a hole in our back door, only for a moment, but he's definitely recognizable.

The knock follows a few moments later, but we all stand in shock beside the kitchen doorway, unmoving. We exchange looks, the most worrying one from Prim. Have Peacekeepers finally obtained proof of my poaching? Did I leave my bow sticking too far out of a tree? Did they send this royal diplomat to prove a point? That I should be whipped and hung up in the town's square by a royal? These questions swim around in my head, and I don't know how, but my legs carry me to the door. I hesitantly twist the handle –afraid a gust of wind will knock it off its hinges, but find that the tall man acts as a shield.

He offers a sly smile that makes my stomach twist, but he is glistening and gorgeous, just like on the television. Finnick Odair lives in the Capitol, along with all other royal family and government members. I stare at him, taking in his frame, then notice suddenly that he must be freezing, and if he is to whisk me off to my execution, I suspect if I'm kinder, he'll allow me to at least say good-bye to my family properly. I step to the side and motion for him to come in.

After he steps over the door frame, I'm staring at a blank white rectangle, with a few visible heads poking out from beside opposing houses. They're inspecting the situation –just as would if someone such as Finnick turned up in the district. But, unfortunately, he's here in _my_ house.

"Mother!" I hiss, beckoning her to come over. Finnick continues to smile at me out of the corner of his eye, putting me even more on edge. She waddles over; her legs clearly stiff from the cold and extends her hand for him to shake. Finnick bows, by lowering his head, then places a small kiss on the back of her hand. She's instantly shocked –so unused to these close-proximity gestures from the capitol. I guess everyone hugs and kisses as if it were nothing over there.

"Ms Everdeen, Prim, and Katniss," he starts, looking to each of us. "I think it's best that we all sit down, don't you?" he raises an eyebrow.

"Yes! Why yes of course!" Mother exclaims, setting off into a flurry of throwing blankets over stools and buckets. We give Finnick the only real chair we have, which is closest to the fire also. He sighs heavily as he sits, and I cannot help but notice after he removes his woolen gloves, the chalk-white envelope with a purple seal he begins twirling in his hands. I cross my legs in an attempt to stop my nervous twitching.

"I'm here to deliver some news." he says dryly, the large smile stitched upon his face before now vanished.

Yes, I'm most certainly a dead woman.

"News?" Prim asks quietly, "News… only for us?"

"Yes." he nods to her. "I've come all the way from the capitol myself to ensure that this goes smoothly, and all according to plan. Don't look so morbid, Katniss. Your family is not in trouble."

My eyes snap up to meet his. Is this some kind of mind game?

_Confess to your crimes now, and your family will be spared. Confess, and only you will be hung in the town's square. _These are the words I hear in my head.

"Do you happen to have any tea?" he asks in a rather disinterested manner. The way he inspects our house fills me with anger. His eyes are squinting at every crack and dint and bump. Not all of us were born into families with mansions.

"No." I say through gritted teeth, "We do not have any tea."

"Surely, you must. How else would you survive this upcoming winter?" he replies, rubbing his hands together. Prim stands up from her stool and disappears into the kitchen. We all listen as various cupboards and drawers are opened, then closed. "Perhaps some warm soup, or bread? Do I smell potatoes?"

This infuriates me even more.

"If not, I'll just have tea thank-you." he dusts the few remaining snowflakes off his sleeve onto the floor. I shoot up in my seat, blood boiling, and a look of certain disgust on my face. How _dare_ he! How _dare_ he come into our home and demand food from us as if ordering off a menu in a restaurant! Can he not see my mother's hollowed out cheeks, or that Prim and I are much too frail for our age? It doesn't take a genius to notice we're malnourished.

Finnick merely stares at me in confusion as I stand defiantly alone in the living room. Prim scuffles back in and reclaims her seat beside mother. She shakes her head to me, confirming what I already knew to be true.

"We do not have any cake. We do not have any bread."

"Well, I can smell potatoes, _that_ much is for sure. But fine. Only tea, then." he waves his hand dismissively.

I feel as if a vein is about to burst out of my forehead. We only just got potatoes today out of sheer luck! "We do not _have_ tea, because we cannot afford any tea. Can you get through your thick capitol skull or _what_?!" I shout the last part, my hands in fists by my sides.

Prim gasps. My mother lurches out of her seat towards me. She shakes me by the arms furiously and says, "Katniss! Do _not_ be so rude! He is _royalty_!"

I look over her shoulder at Finnick. He seems to find it only amusing.

"I though royalty were supposed to have manners." I mutter. I hear Finnick let out a loud laugh.

"Katniss!" mother hisses, her nails sinking into my arm. Her desperate eyes find mind, as if begging the question, "_Are you trying to dig your own grave?". _

_No._ I decide. _I most certainly am not._

I smile at her, recomposing myself, and motion for her to sit back down. I turn to him slowly, the feeling of a thousand butterflies fluttering in my stomach, and retake my seat. I hitch one leg back over the other and cross my arms in front of my chest –part out of frustration, part because it's damn cold.

"Let's not discuss trivial things anymore, Katniss." he looks at me, and only me as he speaks.

"Agreed." I say in return, but my voice is far from believably sweet. "I'm listening, Finnick."

"What did you come for?" my mother presses gently.

He sets down the envelop on the coffee table and slides it towards me slowly. The waxy, purple, capitol seal is staring right at me, and I don't think I've ever been afraid of something so minuscule.

_Purple._ I think. _Where have I seen that colour so recently?_

My mother asks him something else, but I'm not listening. My mind is a million miles away. Because I'm suddenly putting two and two together, of what this all is. The purple banners… The purple balloons… The purple lights…

No wonder nobody told me, who would want to get the hopes of a seam girl up? I should've asked someone how many names from District 12 were chosen. I should have gone to the reaping. I should've-

"I, Finnick Odair, cousin to the three Princes of Panem, am present at your estate to extend our warmest of invitations to the lovely, young, _chosen_, Katniss Everdeen."

Chosen.

That word. I know that word. It's supposed to be a happy word, one that girls of Panem, and girls from the further districts dream about. The promise of gifts and wealth and food and escape. And while for the briefest moment, I allow myself to feel excitement for my family's safety, I realize the one thing I first thought of the moment I realized what the purple seal meant: I have to marry a man I've never met, hundreds of miles away.

And then I start to laugh –no, chuckle really, because I think of how funny it is that Finnick said '_warmest of invitations_'. Because it's anything but an invitation. If you're chosen, your attendance and participation is non-negotiable. I'm now basically property of the royal family.

"Is that laughter due to happiness?" Finnick inquires, and it seems genuine. I realize neither members of my family have spoken. Prim whimpers out a barely audible squeak from beside me.

"Not really," I reply truthfully, "just the fact that I have no idea what I'm supposed to feel." And it's true, I don't. I'm completely torn in two. Prim, Buttercup, Lady, Mother, they will all survive the winter, and every winter after that. But, I cannot help but think of the consequences. The things that cause a dropping feeling in my stomach:

_Leave my family. Go away to the capitol. Move into a palace. Meet new people. Marry a man._

_No._ I stop myself. _Marry a prince._

* * *

><p><strong><em>What do you think so far, guys? Should I keep going with this idea? I kind of like it! :)<em>**


	2. Chapter 2: Goodbyes

_Hey Guys! Thank-you for all your kind encouragement with this story. I'm definitely going to continue withit, so let me know when you review what you'd like to see with the plot or characters. You can find me on tumblr at: imlahey dot tumblr dot com. Happy Reading! xx_

* * *

><p><strong>Katniss POV<strong>

"It doesn't make any sense." I shake my head. "I'm… I'm a…"

"Girl from the seam?" Finnick finishes for me. "That means nothing now. You are to be royal blood, what does it matter where you came from?" He seems to sense my tension, calming me with his words, –words that most definitely would not be popular opinions of the Capitol. Status, and where you come from are everything there. "There are certain expectations from being chosen, some of which I'm sure you can guess, but others may be foreign to you. I suggest you read over the contract in your own time before we leave for the Capitol." he says sternly, and his eyes suddenly turn more serious than before.

_Expectations_? What on earth does he mean? Is it not expected enough of me to leave my family and marry a strange prince? I feel slightly dizzy.

"Katniss, these expectations must be met, and if not there may be dire consequences for you and your family." he pauses, "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes," I croak, although it's not completely true. I comprehend the undertones, that there's danger if I don't do what I'm told, but the expectations of what I must fulfill are confusing and vague. As a Princess, or a potential Queen, what must one _do_?

"Good." he looks into the fire, where our kettle sits perched on a small makeshift stove. "I shouldn't be saying this, but I fear I must warn you. I can see there's a fire in you, the way you speak and what you say suddenly or –or without thinking. _That_ will not be tolerated in the Capitol castle, by officials, or most importantly by the Queen herself. You may think that the districts are a hard place to live, but trust me, the Capitol is harder. I admire your spirit but… but sometimes, things must change." he whispers.

All these things, all these things, all these things. They crowd my head and make it hard to breathe. I push the thoughts outward and look to Prim, the one thing I can hold onto. I clear my throat and meet Finnick's bright green eyes. "When… when will my family be taken care of? When will they be –be able to eat?" Asking such simple questions in somewhat difficult when your body refuses to respond. Prim's tiny hands sit neatly in her lap, and her knuckles protrude sharply in all the places they shouldn't.

His brow furrows. "Katniss, I assure you that before you leave, you will see that your family is presented with a key to a new house across town. I'm almost certain the King gave the task to your mistress of the household." he seems to ponder on it for a moment, "But yes, your family will be well taken care of. The house will be regularly stocked with food, electricity, and anything else they may need." His eyes dart over to Prim. "And if you require anything in particular for school, or merely for pleasure, you must only ask one of the Capitol servants."

_Servants_? I look up. _Did I hear him correctly_?

Mother and Finnick exchange words for a few minutes, but I'm not listening to anything they say. I focus on a small corner in the room and try not to pass out. Everything is changing so suddenly, and I barely even know how to feel about it. I don't know much about the Princes –only what I've seen on the television like everyone else. I know that their father, the King, is a kind man. But everyone looks down, or changes the subject whenever the Queen is mentioned. I feel slightly sorry for him, apparently she's awful. But, I suppose, because her head is still atop her shoulders, she must've fulfilled her duties well. I'm suddenly trying to remember what the three Princes look like. I know they're all blonde haired, but I can't even remember their names.

When I focus back in to the conversation, it's Prim who speaks. "Out of the three, who is the brother-"

"I am_ forbidden_ to discuss such matters." Finnick says curtly, "It's the law, I'm afraid." Prim shrinks backwards into the chair. Finnick suddenly turns to me, and I feel his eyes trace my face. I'm sure I look sickly pale. "I'll see you on the train tomorrow, Katniss. Around midday."

"_Tomorrow_?" I gawk. So soon?

"Yes, tomorrow." he inspects his watch and stands up slowly. "I must be off; I'm sorry, I didn't realize I'd spoken for so long. I'm late for a conference call."

"How will we know where to go?" My mother asks, afraid he'll leave before he can answer.

"A capitol representative native to your district will come to collect her. He knows the address." he says simply, putting his gloves back on. We all follow behind him, standing awkwardly in the hallway. He wanders over to the front door and kicks his boots a few times on the mat. I stare, because I should ask something –something about my family, when I'll see them, if they can come on the train. But I don't, because everything seems to blur into one big colour and I suddenly have the urge to vomit.

Prim wishes him goodnight, and then the door slams shut with a bang.

Stupid, _stupid_ purple.

I'm on the floor instantly, craning my neck in on itself –because in the span of about ten minutes my entire life has changed. I look up to my mother through my tears –I realize, I've started sobbing– and find nothing. It's the same expression she wore for months and months after father died, and right now I see she's coming to terms with the fact she may never see me again.

"Katniss…" Prim starts, and I hear the break in her voice. "You can't just… you can't just _go_ and _leave_!"

What will become of them? I wonder. Food and shelter is guaranteed, but what of school and friends and jealousy among others? If mother fades out again, who will ensure Prim attends all her classes? Who will cook the food they receive in order for it to be consumed? I'm suddenly shaken with a new fear, that despite all the positives to this trade –the trade of my life- Prim's life may end up no better without me.

"I have no choice, little duck. You heard Finnick, I-I must go for our country, f-for the King and his sons." I sniffle, rubbing my nose on my sleeve. She moves gently past mother, who still stands frozen in the doorway, and guides me off the floor towards the fire.

"You were chosen." Prim says softly, "That's got to count for something, right?"

_Chosen_. What a strange word for it. Part of it comes down to chance. They pick ten names out of a bowl of thousands, and then it's up to the Princes to choose. Though it's often debated how much input they actually have.

I plunk myself down by the fire's warmth and don't try to stop the tears that fall.

"I always… I always though I wanted to be chosen." she whispers, "But now I see… I would never want to leave you and mother."

"I don't want to leave you either, I-I don't even know if the Prin- my fiancé will let me see you again."

"Oh, Katniss! You don't think he'd be cruel to you, do you?" she raises her voice in sadness. Cruelty isn't unheard of in the Capitol, especially in the royal family. I know for a fact that many of the Prince's cousins have been charged with horrible crimes relating to women and beatings. As Finnick said, the Capitol is a dangerous place.

"I will… I will try to do what is right for the royal family, but I know I can only take so much before I'd –I'd say or do something they may find off-putting." my eyes sting painfully at my words. "Prim… what if they _did_ something to you? I… I could never forgive myself!"

There's a long silence between us, because we've both heard of examples before. Being Chosen is a rarity, but every now and again there are lower members of the royal family who come out to the districts to find themselves a wife or husband. It's nothing as grand as the reaping or the television programs, but still, there are large amounts of pressure.

I remember a young merchant girl -Sienna, I think her name was- with short blonde hair, smooth curves, and plump cheeks, was taken by the King's nephew not three or four years ago. She was scared and shy, and obviously didn't want to go with the man because he was so much older than she. There were rumors that she was unable to carry children, that she was a disgrace to the nation because of her barren, broken body. Video tapes of their consummation were inspected, and it declared that due to her unenthusiastic behavior, it was impossible for the unhappy couple to conceive.

There were a few weeks of inspections and medical treatments, but the shy girl was kept ever so quiet and away from the cameras. We haven't heard about her since last year, and her family were moved away from the district. But we all knew what it meant. My best friend Gale told me they were most probably dead. I closed my ear to rumors after that.

But now, as I'm sitting here with my sister, I cannot help but be shaken by his words. What if my fiancé, the Prince, is unhappy with me? I decide, now and forever, to do whatever it is the royal family wants. I will smile politely and keep my strong thoughts to myself. I'll bite my tongue and bow and curtsey and cook and dance any do anything. I realize, I'd do anything for my family. Even this.

I hadn't noticed until now, but mother has finally snapped out of her trance and come over to us. She's brought over the small envelop with the purple seal, reading it with a look of concern.

"Is it bad?" I ask.

"It's… definitely lengthy. Mostly just about… submissiveness, doing what the Prince wishes of you, meeting standards of royal etiquette… and," she adds very quietly, "…heirs."

I suddenly tense up, and push all these thoughts away. That's the least of my worries right now.

We sit quietly, all of us around the fire and enjoying this last night as a somewhat family. After a while I grow tired, my body reciprocating what my mind has felt the moment since Finnick arrived. My mother kisses me goodnight, and for a moment I swear I see tears in her eyes. She's never been much of a mother, but tonight I want nothing more than for her to be one.

I pull myself away and climb the ladder up to our bed, helping to guide Prim up before me. I start to shiver under the sheets at the thought of what tomorrow holds. The only steadying thing is Prim's warm hand around mine as I finally begin drift off to sleep.

* * *

><p>The next morning, there's a harsh knock at the door –so different to Finnick's– that it jolts me awake. I listen as my mother walks over to the door and opens it abruptly. A gush of freezing winter air floods into the house, along with the stumbling and grunting of a near-frozen man.<p>

"_Damn_ snow storm!" he shouts, stomping his boots on our door mat. I clench my eyes shut at the sound of his voice. I recognize it instantly. Haymitch Abernathy. "Where's the girl, then?" he asks abruptly.

"In bed." My mother replies.

"Hmph."

"Shall I wake her?"

"That would be wise."

I relish these few moments in my warm bed. It feels as though my limbs are sinking into the mattress. I suspect once I'm at the palace, I'll never be allowed to sleep in a bed alone again. I shiver at the thought. When she comes over, I roll away and bury my face in the pillow. "Katniss, don't be rude. You must come down at once. We have a visitor."

"I didn't invite him." I mumble.

"Up. Now." she hisses. I lie there for another couple of minutes, while mother chit chats and makes a fuss downstairs. It's Prim's voice that truly rouses me from downstairs. I can't hear what they're talking about, but clearly she's comfortable. She would've have been a much better choice for the Princes. I'm just so unsociable. I eventually wrap a blanket around myself, slide on some slippers, and clamber down the ladder. Prim smiles at me from the kitchen –she's pouring cups of tea. I cross the room without looking at him and plunk myself down in the further chair available. Haymitch chuckles lightly.

"Well, I do like a challenge if I ever did see one. But my oh my, this is gonna be a treat."

I glare at him. Is he mocking me?

Mother shuffles over with a tray of cups, and Prim follows behind with the remaining teapot. I'd half lied when I told Finnick we had no tea yesterday. We do, but it's a very small amount and not the nice kind from the Capitol. We'd usually save tea for special occasions, but I suppose after I leave my family won't have to worry about having enough food anymore. That's at least a small comfort in the grand scheme of things.

"Here." says Prim, handing me a mug of tea. The warmth spreads through my fingertips. They each sit down, and I can't help the burning feeling in the side of my face. Haymitch is staring at me, waiting for me to say something. But I remain silent.

"I'm gonna be honest. I was expecting someone a little more lively, let alone excited." he explains.

Excited? Yes, I guess I should be. I've never even been to the other districts, let alone the capitol or the palace. But… there's just something so terrifying about facing something new. Not to mention marrying someone I've never met. How could I not feel this way?

"I guess I'll just tell you the facts." he starts, "Today, at midday, you and I will board the train. It's a direct express to the Capitol, with only two minor stops to pick up the other girls. You will learn the customs, learn how to dress, learn how to eat, learn how to be presentable." he stops for a moment, probably because he sees the look of shock on my face. "…You will learn. And you will be fine, as long as you do what_ I_ say."

My heart is beating so fast, and when I move my hands to put back down my cup –it's shaking.

"Katniss." Prim breathes, moving over to me. She sits on the arm chair and laces my fingers through hers.

"When we arrive at the Capitol, that's where the official handover will take place. You will be presented to the King, the Queen, and his sons –obviously one of which is your fiancé."

"Have… you ever met them?" I pick at the fabric at the end of my shirt.

"One, once. At a dinner party."

Haymitch is known for throwing parties, that's kind of what he does for a job. Drugs… Alcohol… Everything really, he has access too. It's all part of the corrupt Capitol lifestyle, which is sometimes why I wonder he returns so frequently to district twelve –his original home. He married into the royal family a long time ago, but his wife died in labor. They lost the baby too.

"What was he like?" Prim asks gently.

"He spent most of his time chatting up pretty women and drinking all my damn liquor. I think he got kicked out for being violent –got in all the papers. Probably got that side to him from his mother." he says with a grimace, "However, you've got a two out of three change for not being stuck with him."

"Great." I deadpan. He takes a long sip from the tea mother gave him, which I realize he's poured more liquor into from the smell. How can he drink so early?

"Get dressed. We have to leave soon, I didn't think you'd sleep so late." he tells me.

"I haven't even packed."

"Packed?" he frowns, "No –no. It's a custom for all chosen to leave everything behind from their old life. You're not allowed to bring anything on the train apart from yourself."

This shocks me. My bow, my books, my clothes, my pictures, all of it. Gone.

"When will I see my family?" I finally ask, knowing I should've asked Finnick instead last night. I squeeze Prim's hand cautiously. I spend every day with her, how could I suddenly just leave and never look back?

"That depends on what your husband will allow."

Prime pipes up, "Do… Do you know which one of the brothers-"

"Not a clue." he replies, "They don't tell us."

There's silence again. This is the second time she's been shot down about asking which brother I'm intended to marry. I wonder if he's tall… short… smart…or strong. I don't think I really have a preference, any of which will be awful. Capitol people are often pretentious. I can only hope that he only wishes to use me, and not spend much time with me. If I can be alone with my thoughts, perhaps I can be happy.

"Well… I'd hoped she could at least write to us." Mother says worriedly, tutting to Haymitch. "You'll keep an eye on her there, won't you? Make sure he's not- not- unkind or... perhaps, hurtful or cr-"

She can't say it. What she's really fearing.

"I'll try my best, Miss Everdeen. But in reality, there's only so much I can do." I see him wave me off to go get dressed, so I stand awkwardly and weave out from between the old chairs. "Married spouses tend to spend a lot of time behind closed or locked doors, especially the Princes."

I go out to the back garden and throw a bucket of cold water over my head. I'm used to this, but I suspect in the castle they may even have warm baths all year round. The cold water sends pain into my skull, but the familiar chill does wake me properly. I put on the clothes my mother has laid out for me, clearly one of her old merchant girl dresses. I wonder what my father would think of me if he could see me now –the young girl he trained to hunt and survive by herself, now to be whisked away and have everything brought to her on a silver platter. Perhaps he would be ashamed.

I brush out the knots of my tangled hair and rebraid it, looking at myself in the mirror for the first time today. My dark, long braid falls neatly over my left shoulder, descending over the lace detail of my light blue collar. While I do love my pants and leather jacket, even I can admit the dress is beautiful. It's made of dark cotton fabric, with purple threading and lighter shades for pockets and lapels. I wonder if they'll strip me of it the moment I arrive in the Capitol.

I don't normally care for jewelry, but I can't bring myself to leave without it. It's a bracelet I made for myself from things I've collected in the woods over the years -that and a pearl my father gave me as a child. I still remember the day he found it. It was a hot summers evening in the Hob, when suddenly a fish merchant knocked over a crate of shellfish, oysters, clams and crabs. I remember squealing, disgusted at the sight of crawling things that looked like skeletons. Father only laughed, helping the fishmonger reload the crate for a while. He came back over to me and crouched low.

"Katniss, my child. Look what _treasure_ I have found for you." he whispered, extending out his large, rough hand. In the middle of his palm sat a glowing white pearl, shimmering in the dim light which shone through the old glass windows. "See what life can give you, when you offer love and help? Treasures, beauty, the moon."

"It _does_ look like the moon, father." I'd said, holding out my hand for him. He gave it to me, and kissed my head.

Now it sits firmly secured on the shiny silver bracelet around my wrist.

The trip into town is short, and I avoid looking around at all. Because eyes are _everywhere_, gaping at us, as my mother, Haymitch, Prim and I walk silently and directly into the town square. I wonder how it happened, and how people reacted when my name was called. Thirty girls in total, ten for each Prince. The chances of even one being from our districts was so slim in the first place. I suspect I was the only one from here picked out of the lottery. Our pictures, and common information about us are given to the Princes to choose. _Of course_ nobody thought he'd choose me, so by not telling me about it at all I guess people were just really doing me a favour. But they were wrong. He did choose me, whoever this Prince is.

As we leave the seam, my stomach feels uneasy from guilt. _Gale_. I haven't gone to say goodbye, not that I've had any spare time, but still. He's more than a best friend –he's my hunting partner and companion for survival. He must've heard by now about it all, and I wonder madly if I passed him already in my daze. I hope so. I was never very good with goodbyes. We arrive at the train station on time, and I fidget awkwardly with my braid. All the banners are gone now, and the dull town square looks back to normal. Boring and empty perhaps, but to me it's home.

Prim taps my shoulder to get my attention. Her eyes are rimmed in red. "Haymitch said to come inside now, he just had to get something for us."

I nod to her, then climb the steps into the justice building. It doesn't take long before we've exited through the back and are staring at the large silver train sitting before us. I've never been this close to anything so large. It's at least a hundred times bigger than any tree or buck I've seen in the woods. I suddenly feel very small.

"May I present, your mistress of the household: Effie Trinket." Haymitch says from behind. I spin around, half startled and half scared, to see a peculiar looking woman addressing me up and down. Her skin is painted a pasty white, with purple hair that sits neatly in a curled twirl atop her head.

"It's…nice to-" I feel her harsh gaze on me, scrutinizing my dress and body. "…meet you." I finish through gritted teeth. I can read her thoughts: _What a thin, skeletal creature. Hardly good for breeding._

She takes none of this to heart, suddenly pushing me along the platform in a flurry of sweet pleasantries about the district, how supposedly beautiful I am, and how lucky she feels to be escorting me. "Come come, we have much to discuss." she waves her hands around my face, then twirls on the backs of her heels "Oh," she turns around at the realization that my family is following. "Your family isn't allowed on the platform any further past the yellow line. You must say your goodbyes here." She reaches into the large fur pocket on her jacket and pulls out something small and silver. "_This_ is for the two of you lovely family members! Isn't it just perfect? A new warm house for the both of you!" she says at the top of her lungs, but not quite shouting. I take the key from her and examine it in my hands. It's new and shining and perfect, just like the pearl father gave me. I pall it to Prim who looks like she's about to cry -not from sadness of me leaving, but of disbelief and wonder.

I twist my head back to my mother –my eyes instantly watering. I got a good deal of my crying out of the way last night, but still, my emotions are all over the place.

"Don't… Don't go like you did before –before father died." I manage to say firmly, but not too harshly. "Please, look after Prim. She… She needs you without me now. You need to be, a good mother for her. The way I'll try to be a good mother for... for..."

But her eyes aren't focusing on what I'm saying, I can tell. She pulls me back towards the building for a moment, away from the others. I'm confused for a moment, but then she pulls out a small blue bottle of pills. "Take one, every four weeks, and it'll keep you… you from falling pregnant." She thrusts the bottle into my hands and I nearly drop it from surprise. Her voice sounds like that of an Apothecary's daughter, tight and automatic. These pills are extremely rare and expensive, and mother has just given me the whole bottle.

"No!" I say, then lower my voice. "I cannot… I cannot take this, I-I must… I must do what they say and… the contract, it said… it said_ heirs_ mother. This could annul the marriage, and being_ chosen_-"

"_Please_ take them. You're too young! We never… I never taught you about-"

"No, mother." I blush deeply. "I know… most things. And I know I must… be able to bear his children. I cannot take this." I forcibly place the bottle back into her frail hands.

Effie suddenly calls out, "Make it quick, Katniss darling. We haven't got all day!"

I turn back to meet her blue eyes, which look nothing like mine.

"When… When he comes to your bed, try and relax, part your legs for him, and do what he likes. It'll be easier-"

"Enough! Please!" I turn away from her. She can't tell me nothing for years on end and then suddenly force so much knowledge upon me. I'll figure it all out later.

"Katniss," she starts, and I know where it's going. She'll start talking about missing me, and apologies that were never previously said, and that's not good, not good at all. Because then I'll get caught up in crying before I've even said a word to Prim.

"No, mother. Please." I pull her into a hug. "Just... be strong and know that, I'm doing thing for you. So you'll survive. I'll... I'll miss you, both of you."

Prim tattles over at the sight of our hug and nestles into my back. I lean down and press a kiss to the top of her forehead.

"I love you, Katniss." she cries, and the sounds from her throat make me tear up also. "You… You _always_ took care of me –of us. Now it's someone else's turn to take care of_ you_." she explains, and I look down to her. I don't have the heart to tell her that it's probably not true. There's a high chance it will all be awful "I hope I get to meet him one day, and maybe… maybe your children."

I wince at the words. Children. _My_ children? I'd never wanted kids, but now I have to have them.

"I'll… I'll try to write." I pull back from mother, then lean down to her. She's left a damp mark on the side of my dress from her crying. "But… in case I don't. Know that I tried, okay little duck?"

"Okay." she whispers, and I hug her one last time, trying to remember the soft warmth of her little body against mine. Of course I'll try to remember it every time I hug a pillow when I miss her. But It'll never be the same.

So as I'm walking towards the opening at the very end of the train, I look back only once, and offer them both a wave with the best smile I can put on. It's not very convincing, but I hope from far away they can't see it so well.

Effie steps up and into the cart with the help of a large hand. I suddenly recognize the wave of scent as Haymitch, no doubt already slightly drunk. He offers me a hand and a crooked smile.

"Step up this way, _sweetheart_. It's time you learn how to be a Princess."

* * *

><p><em>Hope you guys liked it! Don't forget to review and let me know what you'd like to see in the future. I'm on holidays now so I hope to update very soon.<em>

_ Find me on tumblr at **imlahey**. xx_


	3. Chapter 3: Pasta

**Hey guys, here's the next installment. I hope you like it! (please let me know what you'd like to happen in the future) xx**

* * *

><p><strong>Katniss POV<strong>

I'm taught that I can't refer to my mistress of the household as Effie, but rather _Ms Trinket_. I apologized to her when she informed me of this, but she didn't seem at all angry. I spend the afternoon with Haymitch and eventually Finnick, who explains the layout of the castle to me with an array of interesting diagrams and charts –as well as family trees. I learn the Prince's names from Haymitch: Ryan, Bane, and Peeta. But I must never refer to them directly as such. Ms Trinket gives me lists to revise of names and titles, as well as careful instructions on how to engage in conversation with my future husband and other Royal Family members.

_Do not raise any topics of discussion that you think will bore or anger the Princes. Do not speak to them by their first names, only refer to them as your majesty. Do not refuse your Princes anything; you are present as entertainment, company, to aid in any way possible to make their day and lives easier. _It's so much to take in that by mid-afternoon I have to excuse myself due to a headache, and promise to Ms Trinket that Ill review the codes of conduct in my own time.

The train itself is beautiful on the inside, and since I was the first _Chosen_ girl on the train, I got to choose whichever room I wanted. I've chosen a burgundy room with dark green bedding and gold details. When Haymitch tells me with a grin to look in the bathroom, I don't know what to expect. But I'm met with a daunting looking bleach-white shower, bigger than any I've ever seen in Twelve. Even merchant families didn't have showers, only baths. The dials and knobs are difficult at first, but I eventually find a setting of normalcy. It's so strange feeling hot, rather than icy water on my skin. Sometimes, when father was alive, we'd boil the water before letting it cool and then wash ourselves. But in recent years we didn't have the coal to waste, so at least _this_, I think, as I lather my hair with rich smelling soaps, is a welcome change.

I change into the common set of pajamas laid out for me on the bed when I return, and spend plentiful time looking over the codes. I'd kill for pictures of the Royal Family –not just the Princes, though I do wish now that I'd paid closer attention to them growing up– but also the Queen and King and Finnick's other cousins. How on earth will I introduce myself to them without looking like a District 12 fool?

I practice my curtsy a couple of times, lowering myself steadily as low to the ground as I'm able. At least this much I can do from the years of crouching and crawling in the woods. My legs are well and able to hold my weight.

I'm brushing my teeth when there's a knock at the door.

"Katniss, darling. Open the door." Ms Trinket says from the other side. Why is she allowed to refer to me by my first name? I cross the room quickly and self-consciously run my fingers through my tangled, wet hair before sliding the door to the left.

"Yes?" I squeak, "I promise I've been practicing."

Ms Trinket is wearing a plush, navy blue robe that suits her pale complexion well. She smiles at me, and I realize she's wearing no makeup. I tell myself, that if she can feel comfortable around me, then I should at least make an effort to do the same. "Oh, of course. I believe you, dear. You must be_ so_ tired and confused with everything that's happened, I just wanted to check on you before head in in for the night."

"I'm… I'm okay." I whisper, although I can't make any promises for later tonight when I'm alone. I'm surprised I've managed to keep it together for this long so far.

"Good." she nods, then hands me a small piece of paper. A schedule. "Now, don't forget! Your medical exam is first thing tomorrow morning. We'll be picking up the other two girls from District Three, and then District One," she grins at me, and I try to return the smile, but I can tell that it doesn't quite reach my eyes. The two other girls are both from extremely wealthy districts, and I'm sure they'll get along just fine. I'll be the strange, scrawny, dark haired girl with no experience in social niceties whatsoever. "We should be in the Capitol by tomorrow evening! _Oh_, I can hardly contain my excitement for you… just _think_! You'll be meeting your future husband in no time."

I don't mean to, but when she says this, I flinch.

"Goodnight, Ms Trinket." I say softly, then close the door between us.

I spend a good while looking out the window, watching the last remains of black smoke recede into the distance, then check the schedule. We'll arrive in District Three extremely early in the morning, probably before I'll be awake –which is fine. I'm not in a hurry to meet the other _Chosen_ girls, and I'm not even sure if I'm allowed to. I braid my hair in silence and bury myself in work to keep my mind from wandering back home. Because then I'd start to think about Gale and Prim and Madge and everything would get too confusing.

It doesn't last long. I feel the paper radiate a wave to my fingers beneath me, and realize that my tear has hit the corner with a slight _pat_. I rub my face with the corner of my black pajama sleeve.

_I should be happy._ I tell myself. _They're safe now, Prim will share the food and wealth they receive with Gale and his family. It'll be fine._

I curl up into a ball on the bed and it dawns on me why I'm crying. Because I finally know that my family and friends will survive and be happy –but I won't be there to witness it or enjoy it with them. I never knew happiness could be so cruel and lonely. I find it hard to sleep at first because of the gently buzz and hum from the train's movements, but eventually it comes. I stir in the early hours of the morning from the loud tooting of the horn, but roll over once I realize it's just the District Three girl.

I put on mum's blue dress again when I do finally decide to get up and stop feeling sorry for myself. I sit with Finnick in the dining car, and he quizzes me on names and rooms of the Capitol. The food on the train is plentiful, and I gorge on toast with jam and eggs with cheese. I don't ever think I've ever seen this much food in my life, let alone had breakfast for years.

"Do… Do you have a Princess?" I ask him in between large bites of toast and gulps of orange juice. He probably thinks I'm disgusting.

Finnick snorts. "No," he says good-naturedly, "but I do have a girl I've had my eyes on for years. Trying to get the Queen to allow me to choose her rather than by random will be difficult. But I'm working on it."

"You can do that?"

"It's not unheard of," he shrugs. "Just don't tell anyone, alright? I don't want her getting in any trouble."

"Alright," I nod to him. I won't be talking much in the Capitol anyway, who would I tell his secrets to? An Avox brings over a plate of sausages, and my stomach literally grumbles at the sight. My vision is fixated on the small plate, and I think she's about to give me one or two for my plate, but she plunks down the whole pile in the middle of the table. My mouth falls open, but I quickly shut it. I reach over with my fork and try to get as many as I can on the metal spikes. I resort to using my fingers, then think better of it when I feel Finnick's eyes on me. I pick up the knife, but am unsure which hand it even goes in.

"Why don't I show you how to use utensils properly?" he presses, with no look of judgment in his eyes. I nod to him eagerly.

* * *

><p>The medical exam is horrible. Ms Trinket told me it would only go for about five minutes, but after a while they realized I have no medical history whatsoever from District Twelve. We could never afford to go to any doctors or medical centers, and besides, mother always knew a tea of salve that could help relieve whatever ailment we were experiencing. So the medical staff on the train have to take blood samples and skin grafts and all these other stupid, painful things that make my skin itch and crawl –all the while being told to just '<em>remain still<em>'.

Then it gets awkward, because they ask me to take off my clothes. I look between the four hygienists and medical staff, not knowing who's who. I've never been naked in front of anyone outside my family in all my life, and there's something so cold and strange about this room that just makes me want to pile more and more clothes on instead. I shift from side to side on the metal bench and look down in an attempt to conceal my blush.

"None of that," a blonde haired tuts, walking straight behind me. "We need to inspect you and report back to the Queen with all the gathered information. There can be no secrets in the Royal Family, my dear." Suddenly, my mother's old dress is being lifted up past my hips and over my arms. I'm forced to stand by the movement, and the garment slips off easily. I instantly cover myself.

"W-Why… I don't –what do you need to know?" I splutter, "I'll tell you anything."

"Take off your undergarments," she instructs, "but answer a few questions for us about life back in Twelve too."

My chest feels unbelievably tight, and I fear I may blackout. What am I doing? I have to do this, I have no choice. I try not to whimper as I unhook my tiny camisole bra, then underwear, discarding them into the plastic box provided along with my mother's dress. I suspect I'll never see them again.

"I think I-I can," I say shakily, and lie back down onto the bench when I'm instructed to.

The questions come in waves, and each one makes me want to crawl away and hide in a deep, dark hole. They ask about my monthly cycle, whether or not I think I'm fertile, if I've had any boyfriends or lovers or any possible reason to need treatment before meeting my fiancé.

_Meeting_. That's a nice way to put it, I guess.

They poke and prod and even when I wince it doesn't defer them from taking their time. The blonde inspector announces each answer in a more succinct and informative way to be transcribed and sent off the Capitol.

"Virgin." she says flatly, and I instantly clamp my legs shut once she's pulled away. I don't think my blush could go any lower, but it does. How on _earth_ are they so open and procedural about everything?

They check my teeth since I also have no dental record, but I can't even focus on what they're saying or doing anymore. My eyes burn, and all I can think about is how much of a disappointment I'll be to whichever of the three brothers I'm assigned to. If I struggle to be naked in front of medical staff, how will I act in front of my _husband_? They've allowed me to put on a white, simple material dress that I assume all Chosen girls will wear. My skin feels so cold, and my arms wrap around my small torso.

I stand up and they measure my height and weight also –all the while my head is thumping and aching as if I've just run a marathon and I'm suddenly dehydrated. I step of the scale, feeling slightly sick.

"Underweight." she says as she writes it onto a clipboard. The other three tut and one of them giggles. I look at my wrist and span it with my fingers. Hopefully I can gain some weight when I'm in the Capitol. I'm sure the Princes wouldn't want a scrawny, bony little girl of a body. I realize I've been left on my own for a while, sitting on the bench. I walk over the desk where they're inputting my information onto a computer. I remember they said this information was requested by the Queen, -probably anxious to know if I can bear her grandchildren. My periods have always been irregular, sometimes they stop for months at a time –but I put that down to malnutrition, which shouldn't be a problem now.

I cough. "Can I…?"

"Can you what?" the blonde woman looks up at me. Her green eyes are striking, and it hits me that the irises are encrusted with jewels.

"Can I go, please?"

"Yes, we're finished." she smiles, but it doesn't make me feel any better.

I run to my compartment, lock the door behind me, and clamber under the covers as quickly as I can. I don't cry as I expect, but instead scream into my pillow out of frustration. The soft silk and feathers do muffle my sounds, but I tell myself to be quiet after a few good minutes. The blankets make me feel safer, warm and protected and covered. I ponder on the fact that maybe, having a mean husband wouldn't be as bad as I thought. He'd bring you out when he wanted, use you, put children inside you, then send you off. Maybe, if I can avoid his beatings or cruel words, I could be alright. But then again, he may not let me write to Prim.

I take a small nap, and when I wake my eyes are crusty and sore from my tears. The loud tooting sound is familiar, and the prospect of a new setting peaks my interest. I get out of bed, look out my compartment window, and gasp.

High towers of silver and gold stand before me. Their peaks of pink and yellow and even more gold glisten and glow in the sun. My neck arches backwards as I try and see how high they go –some are so high above the clouds I can't even see what color they are. There's crystal clear blue water in a stream that weaves in and out of the buildings, their metallic window panes reflecting the evening sunlight beautifully. Nothing in Twelve ever looked like this –nothing as beautiful.

And then, my stomach churns and lurches. Because standing on the platform in a light pink coat is the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. She has dark brown hair –uncommon for Districts like Three- and creamy pale skin, with eyes so bright I can see their color from my window: green. Not the soft, pale green of meadows or grass, but a deep, longing color like I imagine a rain-forest to be. She's smiling at Ms Trinket, and I can see her family walking away. She must've already said good-bye.

I feel dark and dreary and just plain ugly in comparison. Usually I wouldn't care for my appearance or what others think, but when I'm presented to the King, Queen, and the three Princes at the official handover that Haymitch told me about, I'll be standing next to them. A short, thin, twiggy looking girl with silver eyes and tangled hair. Surely my Prince will be disheartened at his choice.

I'm startled by a knock at the door, and find that it's the blonde woman from my medical examination. I tell her I'll be ready in a moment –that I have to get dressed- and she shakes her head. "We'll be arriving in the Capitol in about two hours. Haymitch and Ms Trinket are busy teaching the other girls what you've already learned yesterday and this morning. We must get you looking presentable, and we haven't much time."

I follow her through each train car until we reach a completely white room filled with black office chairs, mirrors and sinks. I plunk myself down in one and swing my legs back and forth. I feel a bit disappointed when I realize I've slept through lunch.

"I never asked before," I start. "What's your name?"

"Simly." she begins to brush my hair. "Now, fashion in the Capitol is usually large, grand, and over the top. But the Queen has requested simple outfits in order to show of your natural beauty." she says, twisting my hair suddenly into a low bun.

"That's… good." I agree. She secures the bun with half a dozen pins, then pins back even more of my stray hairs and nearly drowns me in hairspray. I realize that the hairspray has glitter inside it, and now my dark hair sparkles as if I've just walked through a light snow storm. She cakes my face with strange creams and liquids, then proceeds to rub golden shadow onto my eyelids. I watch in the mirror as I transform, and I'm pretty happy with the results. True to her word, Simly has kept me looking like myself –no strange eyeliners or bright lipstick- but just a slightly prettier version. My nude colored lipstick is creamy and hydrating, and I rub my lips back and forth to taste it: vanilla flavored.

"We have three gowns over there for you, pick whichever once you like." she instructs. I hop off the chair and glance at myself in the larger mirror to fully appreciate the work she's done on my hair. Apparently, if you put enough pressure onto coal, it will turn into diamonds.

I've just reached the rack when a pressurized hiss has me turn quickly towards the back door. Hamitch steps in, with the gorgeous dark haired girl from the platform earlier. She's taking off her large coat as she walks.

"Now, the last few things which I feel are impo-" he stops himself, stunted a bit, then steps to the side. I stare at her, and she stares back. There's a long pause between us until Haymitch speaks. "Ah, yes. This here is Katniss, all the way from District Twelve." he gestures between the both of us. "Ingrid, Katniss. Katniss, Ingrid."

She doesn't speak, but she does wave, and offer me a warm smile –exposing her amazingly white teeth. I wave back, and try to smile, then I remember how my teeth look –so it comes out as more of a grimace. Ingrid folds over her coat in her arms and follows behind Haymitch as he leads out of the room. "We'll be back soon, -just wanna go over the basic protocols of tonight's party." he shouts over her back to us both. Simly nods her head in response.

As soon as they're gone, I ask: "Do you have anything to make my teeth whiter?"

* * *

><p>I choose a dark green dress that just skims the floor, which Ms Trinket tells me makes my eyes appear radiant. Suddenly, the breaks are turned on, and we're all ushered out the back of the train before I can even glance at the new landscape. I've only ever seen pictures of the Capitol on television, and if it's anything in comparison to District One, I want to see it.<p>

Ingrid is sitting in the car before I get there, dressed in a light blue, velvet dress. It takes me a moment because of the my dresses' length, but I eventually take a seat next to her. I want to say something, but I know it'll just make it even more awkward.

I try anyway. "I… I loved your pink coat from earlier." I clear my throat. "It really suited you."

"Thanks," she mumbles in a small voice. She sounds very young, and then I notice her nose is covered in freckles. "I'm pretty sure they took it off me, though."

"Oh," I say. "I'm sorry. They took my mother's dress too, I think."

She shrugs. "It's alright, we'll gets lots of new clothes in the Capitol."

I smile at her, then silence fills the car again. I tuck a few loose pins back into place and wish silently for this whole thing to just _hurry up_.

"So, you're the other _Chosen_ girls. What fun," a loud voice says from my left. I turn to the open door and find an incredibly short girl standing with her hands on her hips. She has creamy –almost white- blonde hair in a pixie cut just above her ears, but her eyebrows are dark and firm over her pale blue eyes. "Move," she grunts at us. We exchange a look and quickly scoot over to the other side of the car, since there are two rows of seats. She's chosen a dress much shorter than ours, up to her knee, all bright red and sparkly. She hikes it up and jumps into the car –placing her two feet on the leather seats and crossing one over the other. "I'm Nala," she winks. "Don't get your panties in a knot, I ain't gon' bite you."

That's where the conversation dies. Ms Trinket, Finnick, and Haymitch all eventually join us, but they're in the front row of seats. I pick at my nails for the few minutes it takes to enter the city. Then I stare out the window in awe.

Back in Twelve, the only real concrete area was for merchants, or the Justice Building. Here, everything is silver and gold and shiny and tall. Buildings tower into the sky like trees sprout from the ground –but there isn't an inch of real greenery or nature in sight. I'm not sure if I like this at all.

"Now, remember girls. Chins up, smiles on, this is a happy _happy_ day!" Ms Trinket exclaims, "And the King himself will be there –so don't forget to be respectful."

"We get it." Nala rolls her eyes.

Ms Trinket tuts at her. "If you're so informed, remind me of what happens tonight?"

She crosses her arms and stares out the window, clearly disinterested. Ingrid replies instead; "We're presented to the King one by one, and we have to introduce ourselves. There'll be cameras so… so, I guess we have to keep that it mind too."

"Good," she nods. "And then?"

"Then there's a dinner party, with dancing and food and songs all in our honor. So we must remember to be appreciative and gracious."

"Fuck that." Nala hisses. I hear Haymitch laugh from the front.

"_Language_." Ms Trinket hisses, "The Queen will not be as lenient as us. Please, Nala, all of you," she looks at us girls, "be careful, and remember what we've discussed, then all will be well." she clamps her hands together, then places them on her heart.

I remember everything about tonight, so I'm not really listening. The entirety of my senses are directed at the Capitol people and animals and buildings. The streets are filled with women carrying petite dogs and cats dyed strange colors. I frown as we pass, thinking of Prim and how much she'd love all this. While it's a bit over the top, Prim would adore anything to do with pets. I can't imagine Buttercup would ever allow us close enough to give him a bath, let alone dye him or dress him in an outfit.

I notice, that as we drive by, people are staring. The purple flags flap by on the front and back of the car –alerting everyone to our presence. People point and stop walking right in the middle of the street, and I'm grateful when Finnick tells us that the windows are tinted, so they can't see inside.

The car eventually stops outside the grand palace, but we're not allowed time to look around.

"Ask your fiancé for a tour," Finnick says with a smile. He takes me by the arm and pulls me inside. There's a flurry of photographers at the entrance, and I trip on my dress a couple of times as we climb the stairs. We stop outside the room labeled 'Grand Ballroom', which I also remember from the many maps and charts that were given to me.

"Last minute checks," Ms Trinket worries, checking our hair and applying another layer of vanilla lipstick to us each. "Okay, now file in and stand on the blue line. Try not to look to scared."

The beating of drums and an orchestra of other instruments instantly starts once we enter. I keep my eyes on the floor, too scared that I'll get distracted and fall over, to do anything else.

"Welcome! Welcome to you all!" the King's voice calls out. I follow behind Nala, who's following Ingrid, and we find our place on the blue section of the wooden floor. Finally, when my feet are planted safely in one spot, I glance upwards and around the ballroom. There's at least one hundred other people here, with camera crews and photographers and chefs and waiters all watching us eagerly. The smell of food wafts over to me from the back left corner, and I know exactly where I'm going once we're allowed to move around. I look directly above me at the clinking sound and find three large chandeliers dangling from massive golden hooks. There must be hundreds, if not thousands of jewels and crystals in each one. I wonder if this is complete normalcy for Ingrid.

There are two large thrones for the Kind and Queen, with three smaller ones to the right side. But the Princes are standing closer towards us, each with their hands behind their back. I look directly at the King, for the first time in person. His face is square and even, with kind blue eyes to match. I don't think I've ever heard anyone speak poorly of him, only ever the Queen. Her face looks stern, but not as mean as some people have described. The only non-endearing thing are her beady little eyes that seem to squint and dissect every aspect of your very being. Then, I remember the Princes. They're standing in order of height, all blonde haired and broad shouldered. They'd be heavy, whichever one I'm paired with –and the thought makes my heart skip a beat. Their faces are mainly plain of emotion, but the middle one looks us up and down with a hungry look in his eyes. He catches me watching, then licks his lips. I hope I'm not paired with him.

"Tonight, history will be made." the King says, then changes to look into another camera. "The future of our great nation is bestowed upon our three Princes, and these three Princesses, to continue the family line and therefore continue the prosperity of Panem."

I remember Ms Trinket saying it's not a matter of age amount the Princes, but whoever produces a suitable heir_ first_.

"One such pair, will become the King and Queen, when we pass." he takes the Queen's hand in his. "This ceremony of the Chosen, has been going on for centuries. And I hope, just as I know all of you would, that this year will also be a success." There's a large round of applause at his words, and the battering and clapping of hands fills my ears with a sense of dread.

_Smile, Katniss. Smile._ I tell myself.

"May the Chosen girls please present themselves, now." he instructs. I hear Ingrid take a deep breath, and I give her an encouraging glance. She steps forward, and I see all the cameras move to follow her in the background. She seems sweet -even the way she walks is young and careless.

"Your majesties," she bows to the Princes, "My King and Queen." she bows again. "My name is Ingrid, District One. I'm sixteen years old, and I love clothes and jewels and anything of beauty. I'm honestly so excited to be here, and this whole event looks amazing. I cannot wait to meet my fiancé." she blushes at the last part, then backs away to rejoin our group. Ms Trinket nudges Nala forward, as she seems very reluctant. She does the same motions and niceties ad Ingrid, then stands with rigid posture in the center of the room.

"I'm Nala, District Three. Eighteen years old, and I'm good at electronics… obviously," she adds. "It's _such_ a _big_ honor to be chosen and I can't _wait_ for this night to begin," she says, but there are some seriously sarcastic undertones.

Niether the King, nor Queen seem to pick up on this. I look at the Princes for the second time, but none of their faces give any emotion away. They're all extremely similar in build. It's such a strange feeling that I'll be marrying one of them –I'm not quite sure how to explain it; perhaps a sense of surrealism, as if this is all a dream. The shortest of the three smiles at me gently, but I snap my stare away.

I realize that the King as motioned for me to move forward. I walk slowly and manage _not_ to step on my dress and fall in front of everyone. I curtsy, then say; "Your majesties, my Queen, my King."

"Rise, girl." the King says warmly. There's an air of happiness to his voice. He looks at me expectantly, then I remember what the other two girls had said.

"My name is Katniss Everdeen, District Twelve. I'm… I'm sixteen years old, and I love the outdoors." I manage to say pretty steadily. "It is an honor to have been Chosen, and I'm so grateful for this evening." It sounds so robotic, but I hope it's believable. What I really want to shout is: _How dare you take me from my home and force me to do this! How dare you expect me to bow and curtsey and be pleasant while you all inspect me with your harsh eyes!_

"Correct on all accounts, except for your name." the Queen says tensely, "You are not Katniss _Everdeen_ anymore. I do not want to hear that word uttered again from you, is that understood?"

"Yes, my Queen." I bow my head in deference. What a bitch.

I stand slowly, and return with the other _Chosen_ girls.

"I've been informed from my wife that all girls have passed the fertility test. In good time, we shall all see them married, and it will be reveled who is to be the next King of Panem." he beckons for the Princes to step forward, which they do. "Will it be my oldest, Bane? My middle child, Ryan? Or the youngest, Peeta?" The camera crew and audience all seem to go wild for this description. The youngest Prince looks down at his shoes sheepishly. It can't be easy being shy and being a Prince. "Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm starving!" the King chuckles, "Let the Chosen night begin!" he raises his arms into the air, then heads towards the buffet and bar. The three Princes laugh at this, which sets of another round of applause –and before long, we're left to our own devices in an extremely crowded room with no idea what to do or say. The Queen remains seated.

"_Now_ what do we do?" I ask, looking to Ms Trinket. Haymitch has already left us for the bar.

"I'm going to get a _drink_." Nala says with a wave of her hand. "A really, _really_ big drink." She disappears into the crowd.

"You mingle and socialize with the other diplomats and family members. Try to find your Prince, or maybe he'll find you. Talk to him, discuss when your wedding shall be. The Princes know more information about all that than any of us. It's a very secret affair, you know." Ms Trinket winks.

"Alright," I say. Suddenly Ingrid takes my hand.

"_Good luck_," she whispers, then kisses the back of my palm.

The move shocks me, because in Twelve nobody really touches one another without asking first. I manage to smile back at her, then reply; "_You too_."

I expect people to come up to me, maybe ask about life in Twelve or want to take pictures or something. But nobody really seems interested. To them, I think this is just another excuse for a party.

I duck between people, trying to keep as small as possible, and walk over idly to the buffet to join the line. I pour myself a glass of a fizzing red drink, and gulp it down in only a few swallows. It tastes like orange and strawberries and summer in a cup –so good I have to stifle a groan in my throat. I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand –momentarily forgetting my manners.

"Hi," a voices says softly from over my shoulder –and if I didn't know better, I'd say nervous. I put down my cup.

"Hi," I reply without looking at them, then lean over to grab a plate. My eyes are caught by the large piles of food, and I suddenly don't even care who I'm talking to. I move with the line and start piling my plate with large cuts of chicken in honey mustard sauce, then ladle huge spoonful's of brightly colored curries onto my plate. I take some rice and pasta and even some bread, which I smother with butter. I can't help but taste as I go along. I don't think I've ever tasted anything so perfect in my life.

I grab a knife and fork from the end of the line, then sit down at the nearest table. I take bite after bite, and each pasta sauce is so different I feel as if my tongue will be sore tomorrow just from trying them. The curry sauces are creamy and rich, so I don't manage to finish those. But I use the bread and soak up as much as I can, remembering to use my knife and fork properly for once. I return my plate to the nearest Avox, then stand awkwardly off to the side.

I try watching the couples that start to dance in the middle of the room, but it looks complicated and boring. Why didn't Ms Trinket teach us any of _that_? It's been about twenty minutes and... nothing. I wish someone would come and talk to me. Anything would be better than this. People are staring, and taking pictures, and large black cameras are following me around –to watch my every move. I cross my arms over my chest and huff. _What was the point of learning all the social niceties of the Captiol if I never have to use them?_

Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I nearly sigh out of relief. But my throat constricts when I turn to see who it is.

"Good evening there," the middle Prince says. He leans on the behind wall and moves close to me. "You're the Twelve girl, right?"

"Yes," I nod, then curtsy for him.

"_Damn_, for a second there I thought you were just gonna get on your knees and let me have it right here in front of everyone."

I take in a sharp breath. _Did he say what I think he just said_? His breath smells like Haymitch -like liquor, I realize.

"You're... You're my..." I can't make myself say it, but he so kindly does so for me.

"Fiancé. Yup, soon to be husband." he chuckles, taking a sip of the dark brown drink I hadn't noticed before in his hand. "Never been to Twelve, so I've never had a girl from Twelve. This should be interesting."

_Ryan_. I remember. _His name is Ryan_. "When's our wedding?" I ask as I practiced, wrapping my mind around the whole thing. Out of all of them, why did it have to be _him_? My stomach twists uncomfortably, and I have the urge to run and hide back in the car that we came in.

"Don't ask me stupid questions. Who _cares_? You and I are going to have _so_ much fun." He wiggles his eyebrows at me. I hear Ms Trinket's voice in my mind: _The Princes have a reputation for promiscuity, they may even try an engage in activities with you before your wedding. This isn't ideal, and will most definitely not make the Queen happy. Try to defer these actions without offending them in any way._

"I... I…" my lips refuse to move in the way I want them to. I try to force a small smile and appear unphased. "Would you like to –to dance?" I blurt out, "I've… I've heard that's fun."

"No, no. I'm quite content here." he smiles, but it's not like the King's smile. It's much more mischievous. "Tell me, what did you used to do in Twelve for _fun_? Did you have any friends?"

I think of Gale and Madge and Prim. "A couple," I reply honestly.

"Any of them lovers?"

My eyes go as wide as saucers. My hands twist around themselves where I hold them in front of me. "I-I, no. I don't think so, no." I shake my head. "Could we…could we discuss this in a more private place, maybe? I mean… there are cameras."

"There are cameras everywhere, Twelve. Welcome to the life of royalty." he says with an air of humour, "Not to mention the fact that it's hilarious you're mebarred about talking about sleeping with me, when everyone's just gonna see it on video anyway."

_Oh no. Nobody told me that! Why the hell did nobody tell me that?_

"Are you... are you sure it has to be that way? I thought... I thought they just checked the sheets or -or something." I stumble over nearly every word. My heart is beating so fast it's as if I've just won a marathon. _Who will be allowed to see the video? All of Panem?_

He claps me on the shoulder. "You see, I _knew_ you were a pure one the minute I started damn talking to you!" he laughs loudly, "The way you blush so easily, the way you're terrified of looking me in the eyes when I get too close." he reaches out and drapes all of my hair onto one of my shoulders. His fingers trace along my exposed collar bone and I find it hard to breathe. If I were in any other situation, I'd smack his hand away and probably hit him in the face. But there are large crowds of people around us –everyone would see it, and I can't have my actions taken out on Prim or mother. Ryan's head bobs down to be close to my ear. "The way you have no…" he presses his lips to peck my neck for a split second. "love markings or bruises on your delicate skin."

I can't help myself. It's a reflex. As soon as he utters the words I shove him away slightly and take a step back. He takes my hand back in his, with a smile on his face, and pulls me back towards him. "Aw, come on Twelve. Lighten up!"

He leans in to kiss my neck again, but an outburst from behind me stops him. "What are –_Rye_!" the shortest of the three brothers shouts. "What are you _doing_?"

"Checking out the new meat." he replies casually. I watch as he drinks the rest of his glass in one long gulp. The youngest -Peeta, I remember- marches over and places a hand on his chest.

"Rye, _Rye_ please stop this now! Leave before I tell mother, or someone." says Peeta, his voice even and soft.

"You and I both know she'd listen to _me_ over _you_ any day." he says angrily. Peeta seems to wince at this, then whispers something to him.

"You know that -that you promised me this, remember?" he says, pulling him slightly away from me. I take a step backwards and consider making a run for it.

"Fine, whatever." he growls, looking me in the eye for a moment, before glancing back to his brother's face. "I was only messing with her anyway. Anyone can see she wouldn't want to be stuck with_ you_, Peeta!" Rye throws his glass to the floor a few meters away, just outside on the patio. He storms off back towards the crowd of people dancing in the center of the room. _What the hell just happened?_

I brush myself off for a moment, then look up to find Peeta inspecting me worriedly. "Did he, did he hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine." I reply coolly. Well, not_ fine_. In truth I want to scrub myself clean in the bathroom and never talk to anyone again.

"I am… so, _so_ sorry. You have no idea," he says in a panicked manner. I step away from him slightly, my direct instinct to get as far away as possible from these princes. "I… It's alright, I'll keep him away from you for the rest of the night. I promise."

"What good would that do? I'll have to marry him eventually." I say quickly, remembering Ms Trinket's instructions. _Do not speak for longer than necessary, women must speak to the point alone._

He smiles a little bit at what I've said. "No, you won't. He's not your betrothed."

"Oh." I say, "So he lied."

"Yeah, Rye does that a lot." he shrugs, then notices two Avoxes moving over to clean up Rye's glass mess. "Excuse me for a moment, would you?"

"Okay." I blink.

Peeta steps away for a moment, and for the briefest moment I swear he has a limp. His movements area little stilted, but he seems to be able to get around just fine. He walks over to the pair of Avoxes and motions for them not to worry. "Oh, it's alright. I'll do that." he smiles at them and takes the broom. "You know how Rye can be sometimes, sorry." he blushes at his words. I wonder if he knows I can hear him. He begins sweeping, and continues until all the shards are up against the wall corner away from anywhere people might tread on it.

Instead of him coming over to me, I take the few steps to be beside him. He leans the broom against the wall, then nervously scratches the back of his neck. "Look, I... I get it if you want to be alone right now. That was a horrible thing to happen." he sighs deeply.

"No, it's alright. I'm just a bit shaken is all." I simper, and this seems to at least raise his gaze to mine.

"This isn't how I wanted this to go at all." he looks back at his shoes, crestfallen. "I'm… I'm Peeta, your fiancé."

I put two and two together, and before I allow myself to experience any kind of emotion, I'm on the ground in a deep curtsy. "Your majesty." I say in a rush.

"No... _no_. Please don't –don't feel the need to do that. It's fine, please." He offers me his hand, and I use it to help me stand. It's warm and pale against my dark skin. I can't help but wonder what it would feel like to have his hands on my legs or torso or arms.

"I was told to address you that way." I keep my eyes fixated on the floor.

"Well, I'd really like it if you didn't. It's a bit formal for every day, don't you think?" he tilts his head down in an attempt to meet my gaze.

"I…I, yes. Sorry, I'm sorry." I say. His eyes have brightened a little bit at least, he looked so sad just before.

"Don't apologize, it's fine. You were just doing what you thought was right." I can see him smile warmly out the corner of my eye.

"So, you'd like me to-" I cut myself off. _Do not question the Princes as a result of your lack of understanding. You should figure these things out yourself._

"Hey, It's alright. You can ask me anything."

I bite my lip. "You'd like me to call you Peeta?"

"Yes, please… You're Katniss, correct? Is it okay if I call you by that?"

I nod my head up and down. He seems nervous, which to me is ridiculous. He's a Prince, he could have anything he wanted. Why would he be nervous around a girl like me?

"I really am sorry about Rye. I had no idea he'd do something like that. He's just... well, he's just an idiot." he says, then laughs. I find myself chuckling with him, then stop myself. _Do not engage in any activity which mocks or makes fun of any Royal Family member. That would be considered treason. _"I should've, I should've come over sooner or... or swallowed my embarrassment and tried to talk to you again."

"Again?" I crinkle my nose.

"I um –I did try to talk to you earlier, but… I thought you didn't want to talk to me." he says, "It's okay, I'm used to it. Most people don't want to talk to me."

I frown. "When?"

"At… At the buffet line," he says, blushing.

"_Oh_!" I exclaim, "That was –that was _you_?"

"Yeah," he shrugs. "I'm sorry if I was too forward, or… or if you just wanted to be left alone. I understand. "

"No, I-I was just-" I pause, thinking about what to say. "There was just… so much_ food _and I'd never seen so many colors in one place."

"Oh," he smiles, and it's the kind of smile that lights up the whole room. "So this Prince was upstaged by some colorful _pasta_?"

* * *

><p><em>Sorry that it took me a while to update, but this chapter took me longer to write than I anticipated! I assure you that it's cut at this exact spot for a reason. Let me know what you think so far and what you'd like to see in the future! Thank-you for readingreviewing, and a reminder that you can come find me on tumblr at imlahey._

_xxx_


End file.
